


Submissive

by KMDWriterGrl



Category: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-03
Updated: 2014-07-03
Packaged: 2018-02-07 08:50:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1892796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KMDWriterGrl/pseuds/KMDWriterGrl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Catherine and Gil discuss the finer points of sexuality ... and rekindle their relationship at the same time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Submissive

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place in season 8 but with the assumption that Gil and Sara didn't have their acts together yet! 
> 
> It also assumes that Grissom and Catherine had a relationship prior to working together at the crime lab.

“She was at a _what_?”

Catherine rolled her eyes and took a sip of her wine. “A rainbow party.”

“You’re going to have to explain.” Grissom’s face was shaping itself into the bemused expression it got on the rare occasions when someone knew something that he didn’t.

“I was hoping it was just a trend but apparently it’s stuck around. We dealt with it during the Hannah West trial, remember?” Grissom shook his head so Catherine continued. “It’s a party where the teenage girls all wear different colors of lipstick and give the guys oral sex. The guy who has the most colors at the end of the night becomes Master of the Universe or something. Apparently they also give out points for the girl who can deep throat it the furthest.”

Grissom choked on his wine and Catherine offered a grim smile. “I know. Pretty scary.”

“And Lindsay was at one of these?”

“I busted it. She and Madeleine weren’t coming to the door at Madeleine’s house last night so I went in. After the stint some of Sam’s backers pulled a few months ago with her– well, let’s just say I was worried.”

“Understandably.” Grissom watched a shadow fall over her face as she recalled Lindsay’s kidnapping at the hands of some business associates who were seeking revenge on Sam Braun, the mega-millionaire casino owner who also happened to be Catherine’s biological father.

“So I head inside– the door was unlocked– and follow the music and what do I find downstairs but my daughter re-applying this god-awful shade of fuchsia lipstick in the middle of a circle of girls and a bunch of guys reclining on the sofa with their pants around their ankles!”

“So I take it she’s grounded until she’s thirty.”

“Fifty!” Catherine knocked back the last of her wine and leaned her head back against the couch, shutting her eyes. “We’re going into counseling. I do not want her doing the same dumb stuff I did. She has got to understand that sex is something to be had between two people who care about each other and not passed around as a party favor!”

“Sex is an amusement. It’s a diversion. It’s a sport. The next logical step for some people is that it’s also a party favor, something to be given and taken freely.”

Catherine opened her eyes. “You don’t really believe that.”

“Not all of the time, no.”

“That you even believe it _some_ of the time is really disturbing to me. There was a time when you cared a great deal about sex and what it meant.”

There it was; their shared history. That she even knew that about him was a testament to how close they had once been.

“Cath.” He sat down next to her and met her gaze. “When I was with you I cared about _making love_ and what it meant. Some people think it’s trite to differentiate, but it really is necessary.” He gave her a small, almost self-conscious smile. “The night we met, when I tried desperately to pick you up at the bar after you’d finished a night of dancing--”

Catherine laughed at the memory. “My god, Gil, what a baby you were! It didn’t matter that you were three years older. You couldn’t flirt to save your life!”

He ignored the friendly jibe and continued. “That night, we had sex. After you and Eddie divorced and you came to me, wanting comfort, wanting to be told you were still the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen …” He leaned forward and touched her face, lightly caressing his thumb over her high cheekbone. “That night we made love. And you know there WASa difference.”

“I remember.” Catherine covered his hand in hers, squeezed his fingers.

He abruptly stood, breaking the moment that was growing too intense for both of them, and took her wine glass. “Ready for a refill?”

“Please.” Catherine rose to stretch and wandered around Grissom’s living room, examining books, Lucite cases of butterflies, and the pieces of artwork on the walls. 

“Speaking of sex,” she called into the kitchen, stopping in front of his bookshelf, “is there any reason why you have an entire shelf of erotica and three editions of the Kama Sutra?” She started looking at titles. “Consensual Sadomasochism; Fetish Sex--An Erotic Guide for Couples; Best Bondage Erotica; He’s On Top–Erotic Stories of Male Dominance and Female Submission. Gil, I cannot _believe_ this! Are you actually planning on DOING this stuff with Sara?”

Grissom walked over to the shelf in question and handed Catherine her glass of wine. “Who said anything about me sleeping with Sara?”

“Please. It’s only a matter of time and you know it.”

“Sara and I are just--”

“Gil, you and Sara aren’t ‘just’ anything. I see the way she looks at you … and I see the way you look at her when you think no one else is watching. I wish you’d just ask her out on a date and get it over with.”

“Why are you so interested in what I do with Sara?”

“Because you need someone in your life, Gil, and I can’t think of anyone more perfect for you than her.”

“Look, I …” He shook his head. “Leave it, Cath, okay? Please. Just leave it for now. I want to spend my evening with you. I don’t want anyone else in the mix.”

Catherine nodded, more pleased than she probably ought to be that he wanted her all to himself. “Fair enough. But back to my question--why this library?”

“After I met Lady Heather I became interested– clinically interested, mind you– in the practices people engaged in at her domain. So I decided to do a little studying.”

“Uh huh. CLINCALLY interested. A LITTLE studying.” Catherine continued browsing the shelves, picking up a volume or two that looked interesting and flipped through it. “Well, you’ve got the written section of the exam down. Dare I ask about the hands-on portion?”

“I won’t give you all of the details.”

Catherine’s jaw nearly hit the floor. “You’re kidding! You, straight-laced Gil Grissom, actually let Lady Heather have her kinky, corseted, jack-booted, handcuffing, whipping way with you?”

“It didn’t always involve handcuffs,” Grissom replied calmly. “And never whips.” He took a sip of his wine then added, almost as if it was an afterthought, “The corsets looked incredible on her.”

“That is– extraordinary.” Catherine laughed, delighted by the idea that Grissom had, even for a few minutes, let his hair down. “Gil, you are full of surprises.”

“It’s quite fascinating, really. Our minds are our most important sexual organs, fueling the fantasies we try to keep under wraps. Heather has created a place where fantasy can come safely to life. The trappings of what she practices– the whips, the chains, the handcuffs– might not be appealing to some people, but the underlying principle of allowing fantasy to come out in a safe, controlled reality is quite a turn-on.”

“And did you experience that for yourself? Fantasy becoming reality?” Catherine asked, taking another sip of wine, eyes on Grissom, fascinated by the idea of her tightly-controlled friend letting go and enjoying himself in such an unorthodox manner.

“She let me …” Grissom hunted for the right term. “…sample a whole variety of activities. Some of them were more interesting than others.”

Catherine laughed and leaned forward, eyes alight. “You’re going to make me drag it out of you, aren’t you? Come on, Gil, spill it, what finally got you off? Not handcuffs, surely … we see enough of those in our line of work. And you already said no whips. Hmm ... female dominance, maybe? Woman on top, running the show …”

“You’re thinking way too much about this,” he said, amused.

“Discipline. No, you’re not aggressive enough for that.” Catherine stamped her foot in consternation and took another long sip of wine, still mulling. “Role play maybe …”

“You’ve never been able to dissect me, Cath, I very much doubt you can start now,” Grissom said, a trifle too smugly for her taste.

“I’ve never been able to—Oh, that’s rich. Get serious, Gil, I can read you like a book. Who just called you out on making goo-goo eyes at one of our colleagues?”

“That’s observation, not dissection.”

“I know you better than anyone else in that lab,” she retorted.

“Maybe,” he replied. “And maybe you don’t know me as well as you think you do.”

“Oh, you are so damn smug.” She tossed her curls, more than a little turned on by both their verbal sparring and by the image in her head of Gil playing rough and tumble games in one of Lady Heather’s rooms. “I would love to wipe that grin off your face.”

“Would you now?” He licked his lips. She was sure he didn’t mean for it to come across as provocative, but that’s exactly how it played and it aroused her more than she expected.

“You’re so used to being right, to always getting your way. It’s really kind of irritating.” She put her glass down on the shelf and crossed to him, circling him, studying him with eyes that were amused, annoyed, and aroused all at once.

“You know,” she purred, willing to get a little flirtatious because this was, after all, Gil and she still found him very attractive, “someone really needs to put you in your place.”

She drew up close to him, further in to his personal space than he would normally allow anyone but Sara to venture. And he’d allow it, she knew he would, because she still fueled a fire in his belly, was still able to draw him out beyond the world of the clinical and the calculated. Their ardor may have cooled over the years into a deep and familiar friendship, but the fire was still there, tamped down, waiting to be re-kindled.

She wanted to rekindle it now.

“And are you planning on _trying_ to put me in my place?” Grissom asked, with a smirk that was just infuriating enough to provoke Catherine into a response.

“You’re damn right I am.” She stepped boldly forward until her body was flush with his and he had nowhere to step but back against the wall. It took only a second for her hands to find his wrists, and another second to pin them at his sides. He let her, willing to let her tease and be teased.

Catherine slid her mouth over his. His lips were full and warm and the memory of the last time her mouth had been on him was more than enough to harden him. He kissed her back, gently at first, but then harder when she pressed insistently against him. She slid her mouth to his throat, nipping until he groaned longingly. He willingly remained pinned against the wall with his wrists in her hands, enjoying her assault on his neck.

She laid her hands on his shoulders and pressed, wanting to bring him to the floor on his knees. Instead of willingly going where she wanted him to, he broke her grip on his wrists and reversed their positions, pressing her flat against the wall with his body, pinning her hands above her head.

“Gil--”

“Why are you trying to bring me to my knees, Catherine?” His voice was low and controlled, but there was an undercurrent of need running through it. “Does it turn you on?”

Flustered, not certain that she liked having the tables turned on her, she managed to say, “You know it does” before his mouth was next to her ear, his teeth grazing her earlobe.

“Because you want to feel powerful,” he whispered. He bent to the curve where her neck met her shoulder and bit down hard enough to make her hips jerk.

“Yes,” she gasped.

“You want me to do whatever you tell me.”

“I want you to do whatever I want.” She shuddered as he bit at her shoulder again and moved her hips against his with more force. “I want you to let me be in charge.”

He released her wrists then and skimmed his fingers down her arms in a light, teasing caress, though he kept her body pinned up against the wall.

“Lady Heather’s lesson number one, Cath. It’s not the dominant who has the power. It’s the submissive.”

“Why?”

“Because the submissive is the one who can always say stop.”

Catherine stepped away from the wall and met his gaze with hers. “I’m not ready to stop yet.”

He gave her his usual small smile. “Good. Neither am I.” He held his hands out to her, waited for her to twine her fingers with his. When she did, he raised her hand to his lips and kissed it gently, and tugged her back to his bedroom.

**END.**


End file.
